by Di Morrissey
‘Lily, don’t go any further. Don’t even think about it.’
‘You don’t know what I’m going to say!’
‘I can guess. It’s written large in your eyes and the tone of your voice. You’ll do your dough.’
‘I don’t even know if it’s for sale,’ she hedged.
‘Good. Listen, if you want to find something to throw your money at, give you an interest, whatever, let me scout around for you. I love the idea of keeping you here.’
‘As you’ve made clear on occasions too numerous to mention,’ said Lily, reminding herself that she knew he’d react like this.
Lily decided to let it go at that. She didn’t want to hurt Dale’s feelings and knowing how volatile he could be, especially after a few drinks, she didn’t mention Tim and his possible involvement. She’d wait and see what Tim thought when he got back to Broome. While she enjoyed Dale’s company and his down to earth approach to practical matters, he had a rather conservative attitude to women. Women’s equality was, to him, joke material mainly. Big thinking, tough management and aggressive business speculation were men’s stuff. Most women, he liked to argue, weren’t made for that role. There were some opportunities for women in big business, but not in the front line. Lily decided to do her homework before asking his advice, or telling him what she intended to do.
The Roebuck Hotel was crowded, a hefty bouncer at the entrance to the beer garden gave everyone a glance, and some a smile or a wink. Lily handed over the tickets and they joined the throng milling beneath palm trees lit by green lights and settling down at tables and benches facing the outdoor stage.
They were hailed by Pauline Despar. ‘Lily, over here. We’ve managed to save seats, against huge odds. Hi, you must be Sami. I’m Pauline, this is Gaye, she runs Chinatown Music. And this is Rosie.’
Sami gave each a pleased-to-meet-you nod and smile, but with Rosie something more than the perfunctory flashed between them, something deeper, but not easily labelled. Cousin Rosie, strikingly dressed in a silk caftan with an Aboriginal motif, leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. ‘Glad to meet you, Sami. Welcome. You’ll like this. Kerrianne Cox has a great voice.’
It was all very natural, very simple, yet the greeting had an emotional impact that for a brief moment left Sami a little off balance. Rosie was family, and Rosie was from the Aboriginal side of her family. The first contact.
The emotional confusion was at once dispelled by a reshuffling of the seating arrangements, moving of drinks around the table, and a brief chat about the crowd, the event and the pleasures ahead. Sami was relieved that the chair shuffling put Pauline between her and Rosie. Lily had closely watched the brief exchange between her daughter and Rosie, and she caught Sami’s eye. Lily could tell at once that her daughter had been taken aback by this meeting as she gave her mother a swift glare. Lily gave a quick reassuring nod, but before Sami could respond Pauline grabbed her attention. ‘You know Kerrianne’s music?’
‘Er, no. Where’s she from?’
‘Just back from touring America, she’s a local. She’s launching her CD here tonight. That’s her family over there.’ Pauline pointed to a group sitting at tables near the stage. Among them was a white-haired man. ‘The old bloke is her grandfather. He wanted her to be a politician or a lawyer and help their people, but Kerrianne felt she could do more with her music. I think grandad now understands that her songs reach more people than she would if she was standing up in court or on a soapbox.’
Gaye joined in. ‘Her songs work, and they sell. She’s going places, I reckon. And I’ve got a mass of customers who’ll back her all the way.’
Without any fanfare, a young woman carrying a guitar walked on stage. She wore black pants and a bright red jacket over a black T-shirt. Her hair was cropped short, she was tall with a muscular build, and Sami figured probably about the same age as herself. Kerrianne welcomed them all, warmly acknowledged her family, introduced the backing group, then lifted her guitar and plunged into her first song.
Halfway through Pauline nudged Sami. ‘What do you reckon?’
‘She’s great.’
‘We’ll have to get the CD,’ Pauline whispered back. ‘Kinda like Tracey Chapman.’
‘I was thinking more Aretha Franklin.’
After the break, Kerrianne called her grandfather and three shy young boys onto the stage to sing with her, introducing her little brother, her nephew and her cousin. Turning to her grandfather she said, ‘This is for you. Thank you for recognising my calling and giving me, now, your blessing.’ She turned back to the audience. ‘I am a leader in my own way as I have seen not only our people, but all kinds of people inspired and touched by my songs. Grandfather now knows, for he has seen me at work and he gave me his blessing and told me, “Never forget your people, never forget who you are, and never forget to come back home.” ’
She adjusted a microphone in front of the little boys who stood shyly with their hands thrust in their pockets, new shirts hanging out, baseball caps turned backwards as they studied their shoes.
But by the time they got to the chorus they were loving their moment on stage, grinning as they sang, swaying their hips.
Everyone cheered at the end of the song as the proud grandfather led the boys reluctantly off the stage. After the encores there was a small rush to the back of the beer garden where a table was set up to sell CDs. Lily handed Sami some money, ‘Get one for me. I feel this is a lucky omen – our first night together in Broome.’
Gaye stayed with Lily as Pauline and Sami lined up for CDs and Rosie went in to the bar for a fresh round of drinks.
‘Are you staying on for the next group?’ asked Gaye. ‘It’s pretty wild reggae music.’
‘I’ll have one more drink and might head back. I’m sure Sami will want to stay, though,’ Lily said.
‘I’ll drop you off then, I heard them last night,’ said Gaye. ‘I have a yoga class early in the morning.’
Lily kissed Rosie and Pauline goodbye and gave Sami a hug. ‘See you at home, Gaye is dropping me off.’
‘Check on Rakka for me, please, Mum?’
‘Of course. Sami has her dog with her,’ she explained to Gaye.
Rosie touched Sami’s arm. ‘We’ll look after your dog while you’re here, if you like. We’d love to have her. She’d be no problem at the old house, there’s plenty of room. She can sleep on the verandah.’
Sami hesitated, recalling how willing Blossom had been to help out, but quickly decided it would be easier to keep it all in the family. In the family . . . the implications of the thought froze her tongue for a second or two. She took hold of herself and nodded. ‘Rosie, that would be great. Thanks a lot. She’s well behaved. I’ll keep her with me during the day when I can.’
‘Bring her around tomorrow then, when you come for lunch with your mum. I can introduce her to the whole family.’
After the others had left, Sami gave Pauline a rueful look. ‘They handled that smoothly. One tossed-off line and I’m in for the big family reunion tomorrow.’ She tried to joke but she was nervous. She was dreading the idea of being paraded around to the whole group.
Pauline sensed her trepidation but decided against saying anything about it. ‘Let’s have another, we’re walking home.’
There was little chance to talk during the next act and afterwards Pauline ran into a group of friends – crew on a break from their stint at Kuri Bay pearl farm – who were keen to party. At 1 am Pauline and Sami left the Roebuck despite pleas for them to stay as the place was ‘just starting to pump’. Sami was tired. ‘I have to confess I’m glad to get away from the decibels, though the music was great.’
‘I forgot, you’ve been out in never-never land. Tonight must have been a bit of a culture shock,’ sympathised Pauline.
‘Not as much as tomorrow will be.’
‘You met Rosie, she’s so cool. What’s the big deal? Your mum told me your family history, aren’t you proud of it? Tyndall is such a legend. Wish I h
ad pearling in my family.’
‘Well, at least you’re in the jewellery business and in Broome. People in Sydney don’t appreciate all the connections to the same degree.’
Pauline glanced at Sami. ‘You mean the Aboriginal family stuff?’
‘Yeah. I thought I was pretty liberal and open minded, and then – wham! – I found I didn’t want anyone to know I have Aboriginal blood.’
‘Why? What caused the wham?’
‘I don’t feel I have any real claim to the culture. And frankly, even some of my so-called open-minded friends at uni are pretty racist deep down. Sure, they’d think Kerrianne was a brilliant performer, they walked for reconciliation and they sign petitions and espouse all the PC dialogue, but live with a mob of them? Marry one? Adopt one? Not really, thanks. There’s a lot of baggage attached to even a faint taint of indigenous blood.’
‘I suppose it must be harder for people who look Aboriginal,’ commented Pauline evenly. When Sami didn’t react she asked, ‘How was your time in the Kimberley?’
‘Unsettling,’ she said promptly. ‘I have to go back. There’s more I want to see that Bridget has described to me. Bridget’s a local woman who’s also working for a university. It will give another dimension to my uni project.’
Pauline wanted to pursue the meaning behind the ‘unsettling’ remark, but pulled back. ‘What will be, will be, I guess,’ she said lightly, a little lost for what to say next, but Sami picked up the thread of her thoughts.
‘I don’t think there’s going to be any thunderclap or lightning bolt that suddenly illuminates my muddled feelings,’ Sami said, wanting to change the subject. ‘I’ll see how things go at lunch. Now when do I get to see your designs?’
‘Any time, just drop by the shop. I’ll show you the pieces I’m doing for California. Why don’t we get together late tomorrow afternoon for a sunset drink down at Cable Beach?’
‘Great. I’d love to. So what other highlights are there in Broome that I shouldn’t miss?’
‘Plenty. Stick with me.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Sami meant it, she liked Pauline and it was great to have someone her own age to talk with. It just niggled a bit that Pauline and her mother were so close. She hoped Pauline wouldn’t tell Lily about their conversation.
‘Hi, Lily, it’s me, Tim. I’m up at Star Two. I won’t talk long, I’m on Dave’s phone – ’
‘Tim! How is it going? What do you think?’ Lily took the phone out onto the balcony as Sami was still asleep.
His answer was circumspect and Lily realised Dave or someone else on the farm must be in earshot. ‘There’s a lot to see up here, Dave is being very hospitable. I’ll stay through the week. Bobby has gone back.’
‘So do you think it’s worth checking out then? To stay the week,’ she persisted.
‘Yeah, I guess so. Call it a bit of a holiday,’ he said vaguely.
Lily decided not to probe. ‘If you want, I’ll come up and get you. Let me know. In any case, I’d like to look around more too.’
‘Roger. Thanks, Lily. I didn’t want you to think I’d swum back to Indonesia.’
‘Thanks. Cheers, Tim.’
Sami didn’t hear the phone call and Lily was glad as she would have blurted out the whole idea – possibly prematurely. But it was difficult not to feel excited, as well as having a sense of trepidation, at the idea she might go into the pearling business.
Sami swam lengths of the pool while a few late risers were reclining on lounges under beach umbrellas. Stroking steadily and strongly up and down she lost sense of time and place. The green tiles at the bottom of the pool slid past her and when she looked down it felt as if she was flying over a rippling green landscape. When she glanced over her shoulder to breathe, all she saw were the fronds of palm trees. She was in a steady rhythm and wished she could swim the day away. But lunch loomed.
Although the house was walking distance from the apartments, Lily drove because it was hot and they had bags of food, drinks and small gifts for little Elizabeth and Rakka.
Sami was taken aback at the beautiful old bungalow with its latticed verandahs, and the magnificent setting of the garden and the lovely trees. Lily looked at the house and remembered how she had felt when she’d first seen it. ‘Exquisite, isn’t it?’
‘It makes your apartment in Sydney look a little boring,’ said Sami.
‘All the new houses in Broome should adopt this style of architecture – practical, cool and so attractive. If I were building a home here, I’d love a smaller version of this. Of course the location and view make it a one-off.’
Sami gave her mother a shrewd glance. ‘Are you thinking of building a house here?’
‘Who knows? I have to retire somewhere,’ she said. ‘But there’s no rush yet.’ She was relieved to see Harlan appear at the front door.
‘Do you need a hand with anything?’ he called.
‘Yes please.’ Lily opened the back door of the car and Rakka jumped out, ran to Harlan as if he was an old friend and was rewarded with pats and a scratch behind the ears.
He walked over to the car and shook Sami’s hand. ‘I’m Harlan, Rosie’s husband. Welcome.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you. You’re a lawyer, right?’
‘Better known around here as Lizzie’s papa.’
And at that moment a curly-haired girl raced out and stopped at the top of the steps. She eyed Sami for a moment, then skipped down the steps to Lily. ‘Pressie, pressie, Aunty Lily.’
‘Now Lizzie, that’s not very nice. You give Aunty Lily and cousin Sami a kiss first,’ said her father firmly.
Sami crouched before the youngster who had gone quiet, hands behind her back. ‘Hi, Lizzie.’
The child didn’t move, her thickly fringed dark eyes looked earnestly at Sami’s face. In turn Sami looked at the round face with its full cupid’s bow mouth and strong nose with flaring nostrils. Her face was framed with a halo of glossy black curls, her fingers were long with naturally pink nails. Elizabeth unclasped her hands and curiously touched Sami’s nose with her finger.
Sami wiggled her nose and Lizzie giggled, then making up her mind that she liked this cousin, flung her arms around Sami’s neck and curled her skinny legs around her waist. Sami held her close, smelling her hair, feeling the cheek pressed against her neck and a small tidal wave of emotion rushed over her. She’d always longed for brothers and sisters and suddenly this child met some of that need. She hugged her tight then straightened up. ‘Okey dokey, show me your house. And say hullo to my dog Rakka. I’d like it very much if you would help look after her sometimes.’
The girl cautiously patted the dog and a wet nose nuzzled her cheek. ‘There, you’re friends,’ announced Sami, and hand in hand they went inside.
Sami’s initial impression was of a lot of people. A mixed group – of race, age and appearance. She suddenly felt a foreigner. But Rosie hurried to her giving her a quick hug. ‘Come and meet Jimmy Pike and his wife Pat Lowe. They’re off to New York this afternoon. We just had a few last minute ends to tie up for Jimmy’s exhibition.’
Sami shook the famed painter’s hand. ‘It’s an honour to meet you. I love your work. And I’ve seen your children’s book,’ she added to Pat, Jimmy’s wife. ‘Are you doing any more?’
Pat, an English woman who still had a faintly clipped accent, looked pleased. ‘We’re always working on several things. Once we get this show over we can get back to our other projects, and maybe the garden.’
Harlan came to gather up Lizzie. ‘Pat is also busy helping run Environs, that’s our local environmental group. Come out on the verandah, there are drinks and food starting. Oh, and Sami, we’re delighted to have Rakka come to stay, we all love her already. So as long as you’re here, we’re happy to look after her.’
‘That’s really kind of you. I can see she’s made herself at home.’ She saw Rakka pad out to the verandah.
‘Rakka has her own chair out there,’ explained Harlan. ‘It used to be Lizzie�
��s.’
Lily was in the kitchen and Sami took her time making her way to the verandah, stopping to look at the pictures, photos, art and objects from the old pearling days. One thing caught her eye and she leaned closer. On a shelf in a bookcase there sat a small wooden boat in a glass case – a simple replica of a lugger.
‘You’ve found one of the most precious items in the house,’ said Rosie softly behind her.
Sami started. ‘Oh, I just thought it was rather sweet. It’s more like a toy than a work of art. Surely some of the paintings are more valuable?’ She indicated the old bark paintings and some more modern ones whose style she recognised.
‘It depends on how you define valuable. Yes, these paintings by Rover Thomas, Emily Kngwarreye, Queenie Mackenzie, Jack Britten, Helicopter, and that one by Freddie Timms would fetch high prices. I’ve been collecting for years. But that little lugger is priceless in my view – it belonged to Maya. Her dad, John Tyndall, gave it to her.’
‘Did he make it?’
‘No. His right-hand man, Ahmed, made it. And that makes it special. Olivia tells the story of Ahmed and Tyndall in her diary – what a friendship. We’re just so lucky Maya’s lugger survived some tough times.’ Rosie handed Sami a bowl of salad. ‘Here, put this on the table on the verandah and help yourself to a drink.’
Sami gave the little boat one more glance. This was a tangible link with the past and her mind conjured up an image of Georgiana’s half-Macassan mother playing with the boat. But she certainly couldn’t imagine Georgiana playing with it.
It was quiet on the verandah with its breathtaking view over the bay. There was nothing in sight that screamed twenty-first century Broome. The house felt solid, the polished boards were mellow with age, the dappled light at one end of the verandah shone through the squares of white lattice, and the perfume of flowers wafted in from the garden. It was all so peaceful, she couldn’t help but sense that this had always been a happy, loving home.
